The Thing About Graves
by RebelAshRunner
Summary: "The thing about graves is that they're always silent, and yet always have some story to tell." - This is the tale of Cecelia, aka Soul Snatcher, and her life with our favorite z-dealer, Graverobber. Graverobber/OC. Rating may change in later chapters R&R
1. The Thing About Graves

The Thing about Graves

You see, there's something I've always found fascinating about graves. The thing about graves is that they're always silent, and yet always have some story to tell. My favorites were always the ones about the Grave robbers, who stole- Not zydrate, like the modern ones, but who stole anything buried with the dead, like jewels and silver and gold. I mean, they stole what they wanted, and stole what people thought could never be stolen. They just dug up a grave, dug around a bit, and took what they found.

Another thing about those people is that they turned around, walked into the alleyways, and sold what they stole. It was just like what my mother told me about the "Black Market" when I was little, and what she told me about how Daddy would always sell things that he stole. I haven't heard of a modern Black Market, but it sure sounded cool to me as a kid. It still does. And now that I've been in the business, it seems like the zydrate market is one in itself.

I guess it was those stories that made me go into the alleys when I was only 17. Or it might've been my parents, really. I think it was both, looking back. Like I said, I was just a 17 year old girl. It was, in fact, my birthday. I hadn't known where my parents were taking me. I just knew that it was my birthday surprise. Oh, surprised I was. But whether it was good or not, I'll leave to you.

"Here," My father said, pushing me forward gently. I looked around the alley confusedly, but didn't speak. After a moment, a man with multi-colored streaks through his dirty white-blonde hair stepped out of the shadows. He looked at me, appraising me. I looked at the ground, refusing to meet his eyes.

"How old are you, kid?" The man asked me. I turned my head. "I- I'm 17, sir…" I whispered, nervous to have his eyes on me and only me. "Hey kid, raise your head up." He told me, and I nodded weakly. "Right, right." My parents smiled.

"They're getting along already, aren't they Johnny?" I whipped my head around to look at my parents. "What does _that_ mean?" I snapped. I didn't like this guy very much. He kept looking at me like a piece of _meat_, for Christ's sake. I'll admit that I found him handsome, but I refuse to admit to liking him any more than that.

"Oh Cecelia, calm down. It's not like you'll be _marrying_ him! You'll just be his-" I glared, and she shut her mouth slowly, not wanting to make things worse. I felt a hand on my shoulder, and I found the man there, holding out a gun with a little glass vial. It had a glowing blue liquid in it. Zydrate. He was a z-dealer. I glared at my parents. "What, did you _sell me_ to him, for some z?" My parents just looked down at the ground, ashamed.

The dealer simply pulled me close to him, placing the gun in my hand. "Kid, relax. You're going to be my apprentice. You working with me will be good for both of us." I slammed my foot down on his, and yelled at him. "Let go of me and go off yourself, you sick bastard!" My mother gasped, and I ran past them. I ran into another alley, not far from the one I'd left, and sank down against the wall.

My parents ran past the alley, and the z-dealer turned into the alley I was in. "Hey kid, I don't suggest you go home anytime soon. Your parents are pretty strung up about this." I glared up at him through my bleary eyes, and he sighed. "Kid, you need to calm down. I'm all you got now. Deal with it." He patted my head, and I snapped. "Don't touch me!" Tears streamed down my face, and sobs wracked my body as I pushed him away.

"Fine kid, but I'm not gonna leave you here alone, and I'm not gonna stop talking to you. You've had a rough day. You need to rest. Come with me." I shook my head. "I don't even know who you are, really..." The z-dealer sighed. "Just call me Graverobber, kid. As you guessed, I'm a z-dealer. You still got that z-gun?" I nodded. "Good. Now, lets go." He picked me up off the ground, and held me bridal style.

"Put me down…" I struggled weakly, trying to twist out of his arms, but his grip was too strong. "Hold still, kid. We're almost there." I stopped struggling, and he smiled. "Welcome to my humble abode, kid." He said, setting me down so he could unlock the door.

The room was filthy, but even so, it was more welcoming than the house I lived in with my parents, which reeked of both blood and alcohol. In fact, this room had a different smell. One I'd only smelled once in my life, as a child. It smelled like Lonicera japonica, common name: White Honeysuckle; the flower was long since extinct, but I could vaguely remember their fragrance from the perfumes my aunt had made in her youth. My aunt had once grown honeysuckles, long before the trees all died and the places they had grown in became over industrialized, rendering the lovely plants extinct.

I breathed in deeply, welcoming the sweet smell into my senses. I was snapped out of my daze when Graverobber, as he called himself, gave me a light push. "Go on, kid." He said. "The room won't bite, and neither will I, unless you ask very nicely, of course." He smirked as I looked away, trying to hide my blush. I may not have liked him much, but I did believe that he could definitely turn a phrase well enough to charm any woman.

As Graverobber closed the door, I thought back to the sweet fragrant smell of honeysuckle in the room, and unconsciously asked him in my curiosity, "Why does the room smell like lonicera japonica? They've been extinct for several decades now, right?"

"So you know the plant?" He asked me, laughing. I blinked at him. "Yes, I have. What's wrong with that?" I asked, my hands resting on my hips. "Nothing's wrong with it, kid. All I mean is that I don't see how you'd know about them. They've been gone since before _I_ was alive. I'm 26, and I've never smelled a real one. How did you know?"

I smiled at the memories. "My aunt used to grow all sorts of honeysuckles, and would make perfumes out of them. She gave me a different bottle each year when I was little. I only use them on rare occasions. I used each one I got, one squirt the day I got it, and then put them away in a secret crevice I found in the flooring of my room for safe-keeping. Lonicera japonica was always my favorite." I gasped. "Crap! They're all still there! That's all I have left of my aunt, and the only way I can remember the old life!"

I felt the sting of the tears flooding my eyes again for the second time that day. Graverobber walked toward me, stroking my hair. I assumed he was trying to comfort me, as awkward as he was making it. "Calm down kid. It's going to be okay. I'll go talk to your parents, and get them to let me get some of your stuff. Just give me a list of what you want and need. But make sure it's everything, because I'll only do this once."

I shrieked, tackling him in a hug. "Thank you so much, Graves! Thank you, thank you, thank you!" He just laughed, patting my head with his right hand, and hugging me back with his left arm. I smiled up at him, and suddenly, I blinked. I'd given him a nickname. "Oh God…" I muttered. Graverobber looked down at me. "What is it?" I shook my head. "It's nothing. Nothing at all. Don't worry about it." He nodded. I

At that moment, I had realized that I'd begun to, as much as I hated to admit it, find myself having a crush on Graverobber, of all people. I gave him a _nickname_. A nickname, for Christ's sake! I never gave anyone nicknames unless I found some sort of important bond with them. But of course, I had my doubts about him. There was no way I'd ever fall for him. He was annoying, aggravating, and completely and utterly arrogant. But on the other hand, he was charming, cunning, and comforting.

Oh God, I'd begun to fall head over heels, no doubt about it. I shook my head, hugging Graverobber tighter.

"Thank you…" I whispered, yet again expressing my thanks, before pulling away to begin my list.


	2. Soul Snatcher

The Thing About Graves

A.N. – Hey, thanks for reading! I began writing this chapter as soon as the first was done. _**Spot's Gal from 1889**_, thanks for the stuff! Love you, twin! And thank you to _**me0w**_ as well for subscribing!

Disclaimer: I don't own Repo!, but I DO own a VIP ticket to see The Devil's Carnival, coming to Houston on its opening tour on Friday the 13th of April! :D Join me, guys! Join me!

I sat on Graverobber's sofa, pen and paper in hand. "Hmm… What to ask for…"

I wrote out my list as quickly as possible. It consisted of my perfumes, some clothes, my snack stash, and my notebooks. That was really all I needed, when it came down to it. My parents would know what clothes to give to Graves, and I'd told him already where to find my perfumes. I'd just need to let him know that my stash of food was in a bin under my bed. It was a box filled with gummi candies, and a bunch of other treats.

"Hey, kid, you done with the list yet?" I nodded, passing it to him. "My food stash is under my bed, in a bin. Please don't forget it." He chuckled. "Yeah, yeah. Just don't blame me if some of it's gone by the time I get back. I can't be held responsible for my stomach. Got it?" I rolled my eyes. "Oh, no you don't. You do _not_ mess with my snacks!" I glared at Graverobber playfully, and lightly shoved him. He shrugged. "Fine, kid. I won't eat your damn stash. But you had better share, or else." I rolled my eyes, and with that, he was gone.

I smiled as the door shut behind him. Maybe I really did like him more than I thought. I stood up, searching for a closet somewhere in the small apartment. When I finally found it, I opened it, finding a large, ragged blanket. Despite its looks, it was warm and soft. I smiled, laying on the sofa and snuggling into the warmth of the soft blanket. The blanket was perfect. "Night, Graves…" I mumbled, and I found myself drifting off into a pleasant slumber after a short time.

~*Graverobber's Point of View*~

I closed the door of the apartment and began to walk back towards my usual alley. The Kid's house was just in front of it, probably due to its convenience for getting the glow. I rolled my eyes. Some people would do literally _anything _for a hit of z. It was really amusing, actually. Even the great Rotti Largo's daughter, Amber Sweet, came to me for hits. She even offered me her body.

As much as I love my job, and the money I get out of it each day, I find the drug itself to be revolting. I never really take hits myself, either. I just use them as glow-sticks, and give hits to my customers for steep prices.

I smirked as I walked up to the Kid's house. I slipped in through the open window that was on the first floor. I could tell already that it was the living room. I looked around cautiously, and slinked upstairs. I heard grunts and moans, and immediately knew which room _wasn't_ the Kid's.

I slipped into the one room that had an open door. It was the Kid's. I could tell by the posters of bands, even Blind Mag. Of course, that wasn't really a shock. Mag was quite possibly the most popular singer in the entire world at this point, especially there in Sanitarium Isle.

I snapped out of my thoughts quickly, and began to gather the things on the Kid's list. I sat on the floor, pulling out the bin from under her bed. My eyes widened. I must've grabbed the wrong one, because this one was filled with what appeared to be… Ventriloquist dolls. "Kind of creepy, Kid…" I muttered, shoving the bin under again, and pulling out another. "Alright!" I exclaimed. This bin was nearly exploding with food. The bin was three feet by three feet by one foot, and filled to the brink.

Next, I raided the Kid's closet. "Damn, Kid!" I jumped when I saw the outfit that was hanging nearest to me. It was a sapphire colored corset and a pair of pitch black skinny jeans and a pair of sleek black strappy-looking heels. Whoa, mental images… I never would've imagined her in _that_! And here I thought she didn't like the attention that people gave her. Maybe I was wrong. I hoped I was wrong.

Shaking it off, I rummaged through her clothes, picking out dark clothes that were well suited to the job she'd soon be doing, and a few casual outfits that she could use during the day. I began to scan the flooring as well, for the small crack that she informed me of.

When I spotted it, I stepped on it, forcing the floorboard up, so that I could grab her perfumes. But I looked into the insulation and found a grand total of 60 or so vials, each with a different liquid, no bigger than his pinky. I sighed. "If they're really that important…" I muttered, grabbing a bag off of her desk, and placing each vial in carefully.

Finally, I had every vial, so I reset the floorboards. I grabbed the Kid's notebooks last and began to leave. But before I did, I had a devious idea. I ran back to her closet, and grabbed the corset and jeans that had been set aside. "Heh, let's see how she likes my choices, hm?" I chuckled, and walked out of the room.

I shuddered at the still continuous grunts and groans of pleasure coming from the Kid's parents' room, and sped downstairs as quickly as I could. I found that it would be easier to just go out the window again, and slip down to the sidewalk from the first floor, rather than taking the front door, which might've tripped any number of alarms that probably surrounded this house.

"Kid, you so owe me some of this stash for doing this," I muttered, turning on my heel and sauntered away from her house. I walked the streets until I was forced to pause my journey. "What the hell do you want?" I looked down at the woman. She was dressed in a short, ragged skirt and a slutty tube top. Her hair was short and had clearly been surgically dyed and spiked.

"C'mon Graverobber, hit me up!" She cried, eyes burning lustfully for some Z. I smirked. "What are you willing to pay?" Her eyes widened. "I- I can't pay now, but I'll pay, I swear, Graverobber! Please, just give me a hit!" I rolled my eyes. "No go, lady." I lightly shifted my weight, sending her falling to the ground. "See you when you have some cash, scalpel slut." I walked past her, and went back to my apartment.

When I walked inside, I found that the Kid was asleep on the sofa, curled up in a large blanket. I was sure she'd just wandered around, searching for my closet to find one. She looked so peaceful, not at all like what I'd seen when she was awake. When she was awake, she could be loud and angry, or energetic and happy. I'd never really seen her stay calm for long. She almost always had some sort of outburst to let out, and her eyes had guarded sadness and anger about them, or so it seemed. Hell, she could even be bitchy when she really wanted to be. But when she was asleep, she had a totally different air about her. She seemed calm, quiet, and peaceful.

She didn't look like she'd just practically been disowned today. She didn't look like she was in any pain at all. She just looked like a sweet, innocent child. It made me feel bad for letting her parents do this to her. She obviously deserved better. Better than being kicked out. Better than being stuck dealing zydrate to survive. Better than being stuck with me.

I didn't want her to have to live this life, but she was stuck with it. All I could say was 'Sucks to be you, Kid', as much as I hated to. I mean, yeah, I'm a douche. I know. But you can't say I don't have a conscience. I still feel pity for girls who actually need help. Just not for those Scalpel Sluts and Zydrate Whores who try to swindle me out of both my zydrate and my money.

I rolled my eyes. Damn whores, always trying to get me to fuck them for a cash-free hit. They're sickening.

I slipped back into the complex and unlocked the door of the apartment, setting the Kid's stuff on the floor. I found that she was just lying on the sofa, curled up in one of my more accommodating blankets. I shook my head. "Wow… I'm gone for fifteen minutes, tops, and the Kid's out cold."

The Kid shifted, and I smirked. "Kid, get up. You need to come with me. We have work to do." She rolled over, sitting up. "What-?" I pulled her up and unwrapped her from the blanket quickly. "Come on. The Graveyard shift is starting." I laughed. "We're going grave robbing." ~*Cecelia's Point of View*~

"What do you mean?" I looked at the Kid expectantly. "You heard me. You're learning how to rob graves. That's lesson number one, Kid." She nodded slightly, still confused. "Right…" I smirked. The Kid was completely stunned from her nap.

I looked at her a little closer. "Hey, Kid, what's your name? I don't think you ever told me." She paused, responding cautiously. "It's… Cecelia. Cecelia Ursare." I nodded. "A respectable name, I guess. But you need a dealer's name, too." She blinked. "A dealer's name?"

I sighed. "Do you think Graverobber is my real name, Kid?" She shook her head. "Good. You're right. Graverobber is my dealer's name. Get it now?" She nodded rapidly. I chuckled softly at her response. She caught on pretty quick, for a teenage girl. "Well, you need a dealer's name. I don't know what we'd call you though… We'll have to let the scalpel sluts meet you, and see what they say, I guess."

The Kid, Cecelia, caught on even quicker when we got to the real robbing. She opened the coffins with smooth expertise after a few tries, and had begun to get the hang of positioning the needles of the guns to drain the shining drug out of each corpse. She proved to be a good investment, that was for sure.

"Now to sell our wares." I muttered, leading Cecelia to my alley. It was only eleven o'clock, and I usually sold z until around one in the morning, but maybe I could cut off early, to make her adjust better.

As we entered the alley, scalpel sluts immediately began to rush towards me from the shadows, nearly separating Cecelia and I. I immediately began to hit up the ones who had the money, and then pulled Cecelia towards me, calling out, "Settle the fuck down!" As soon as I said it, those who were still unhit looked up at me.

I held a hand on Cecelia's shoulder. "Meet my apprentice. I leave it up to you to name her once you see her work." Cecelia spun around to face me, a terrified look on her face. "You're having me shoot people up with z already?" I nodded. "Yeah. Cool it, Kid. It's not hard. Just put the gun wherever, and shoot. Okay?" She nodded, and took out her gun, testing it on the few nearest addicts who had some cash.

Suddenly, an air of confidence surrounded her as she became more comfortable, and she called out to the druggies. "Line it up, and have the cash ready. Got it?" I raised an eyebrow. She was already learning so quickly. Faster than anyone had, besides myself.

I smirked. She had it. She really had it. Finally, one voice began to purr, and many followed suit with the echoing trance of the name they'd chosen for Cecelia. "Soul Snatcher, Soul Snatcher." They purred all through their zydrate highs, before succumbing to the darkness of their drug induced slumber.

I patted Cecelia on the head. "Good work, Soul Snatcher." She beamed up at me, clearly proud that she was being praised. "Thanks, Graves."


	3. Enter Minka Pietrowski, and More Graves

The Thing About Graves Chapter 3

A/N: Hey guys, I just wanted to put these age references out here: At the story's start, Cecelia/Soul Snatcher is 17, Graverobber is 26, and Shilo is 15. (I'm putting Shilo's age in, because she may make an appearance soon.) GothMaureen, thanks for the fave! ^.^ I appreciate it a lot! Twin, thanks again for the review.

~*Cecelia's Point of View*~

It'd been a few weeks now since my first 'Graveyard Shift', and I was much more confident. Graverobber often pointed out that together, we could probably get people to sell their souls to us for a hit of the glow, just like my nickname inferred.

"Soul Snatcher, hurry it up, _please_!" One of the scalpel sluts begged, and I nearly laughed. I had these people in the palm of my hand, and could do just about anything. "You got the dough?" She nodded, craning her neck as an indication of where she wanted it.

I hit her up, and turned to see that Graverobber had just returned from his little… Rendezvous with Amber Sweet. She was still with him though, which was odd. Never before had she come back with him. He signaled for me to come over, so I left my other clients waiting. Graverobber patted my shoulder. "Send 'em away for the night, Snatcher."

I did as he said, and yelled for everyone to get the hell out of my alley. Sure, it was really _Graverobber's_ alley, but there was hardly a difference anymore. People moaned, but eventually cleared out. When they did, Graverobber told me that he wanted me to show Amber how quickly I was progressing.

I shut my eyes for a moment. When I opened them again, I was ready to do this. At least, as ready as a 17 year old zydrate dealer can be, when shooting up someone who happened to be the daughter of the man who practically ruled the world. Amber glared at me tauntingly.

"Well? Come on, _Snatcher._" She growled, just waiting for me. I cocked an eyebrow at her. "Anything you want, Ms. Sweet?" She was beginning to get a little frustrated with the lack of zydrate, and her need for the spark it induced, and soon advanced towards me.

"Soul Snatcher," She purred. I laughed inwardly as I heard her voice creating the tone in the same way she sang Graverobber's name when she wanted something. "Yes, Ms. Sweet?" She pressed herself against me as she spoke. "I want a hit of Z. And I'm not talking for free."

I noticed that as soon as I touched her skin, she began to try to grind her hips in my direction. "Slut…" I muttered softly before finally giving Amber what she wanted. Even if she had heard me, she was either too high by now to care, or she just didn't care at all that I had insulted her. Either way, she'd probably forget by the time the high left her.

"Graves, can we leave now?" I asked, tossing Amber towards her 'escorts'. He nodded and wrapped an arm around me as we left. "Let's just leave already. The sluts are all knocked out anyway." I laughed. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

Within fifteen minutes, we were at a small diner near the apartment that Graverobber and I had been sharing for the past few weeks. We went inside and sat in a two-seating booth. Nearly immediately, a waitress came over to our table and asked us what we wanted to eat and drink.

Graverobber nodded at me to order. "Can you get me a glass of coke and a corn dog, please?" I asked politely. I noticed the sneer of superiority she had on her face as she wrote down our orders, and had to restrain a growl. Graverobber smirked at me knowingly. He laughed as the waitress sauntered off.

"Get used to the whole 'holier than thou' act from others when you're with me, Kid. It sure as hell isn't gonna stop." I blinked. "How'd you know that's what I was getting pissed about? Or better yet, how'd you know I was pissed at all?" I asked him, resting my head in my palm, elbow leaning on the table.

"I've learned enough about you, Kid, to know when you're angry and when you're upset. You get this sort of haze in your eyes that are nearly the only visual hint to your emotions." I nodded slowly, pondering that information. It would make some sort of sense, I guess, that he would know something about my emotions by now, but at the same time, I still knew next to nothing about him.

"How is it that you know so much about me, but I know nothing about you, really?" He smirked. "I'm a fucking enigma, Kid. You'd go nuts if you knew as much about me as I do about you." I rolled my eyes. "Tell me something, then, and we'll see about that." I thought. "Let's see… How about this: How did you get into the zydrate business?"

He smirked. "I got in for the same reason that lots of other dealers did: At 17, with my parents dead, I couldn't pay my debts to GeneCo. I figured selling street-z would get me enough to keep up. I was right, but only for the first few months." I stared at him inquisitively, prompting him to continue. "When I was 18, I got caught by those damn GeneCops, who tried to arrest me. Luckily, I got the hell outta that alley before those bitches could catch me, but I've been hiding out ever since."

Graves told me all about his start as a Graverobber. He'd had a weak heart since he was an infant, so when he was 9, his parents realized just how badly he needed the new heart and they put him through the operation. For the first 3 or 4 years, his family had very little struggle keeping up with the payments.

Unfortunately, when both of his parents were laid off by their companies, it took much more effort to keep on track with them. Graverobber had even gotten a job himself when he turned 12. Granted, he was a simple errand boy for local shop-keepers, but they paid him well, and even tipped him when he was quick enough with the deliveries.

Like he had said earlier, he started grave robbing a while after his parents had passed away. They'd died when he was 15 or so. I pitied the man who sat before me. He was much worse off than I thought. He was definitely worse off than I felt I had been just weeks ago, too.

"I didn't know you'd been through so much, Graves. That's incredible." What amazed me the most though wasn't so much what he'd been through as it was how he dealt with the horrible events that came upon him.

I watched Graverobber closely, surveying his reaction. He was smirking at me, but his eyes looked vaguely wet with tears. I nearly gasped and put a hand over his. He blinked rapidly and laughed, covering his emotions. "What, starting to like what you see?" I rolled my eyes. "Sure, sure. Whatever you say, Graves. Whatever you say."

Finally, after nearly an hour of waiting, the Waitress walked back over, still looking just as haughty as ever. "Here's your food, _Miss._" I glared at the woman. "Ma'am," I said to her, "are you having a bad day, or are you normally this much of a bitch?"

She stared at me in shock. "_Excuse_ me?" I rolled my eyes. "You heard me. You've acted condescending and rude all evening. Not just to us, I've noticed, but moreso to us that anyone else." She glared at me defiantly. "I'm so sick of dealing with low life perverts and grungy creeps like you and your little boyfriend! Get it? I'm only 17. I have a one year old kid to raise, and organ payments to keep up with!"

I sighed. "Okay. Calm down. First off, he is most certainly _not _my boyfriend. And second, I'm 17 as well. My parent's disowned me on my birthday this year and sold me to someone I'd never met. I know you probably think you're worse off, but you at least have some family to look to, right?" She nodded reluctantly, starting to look ashamed. "Right…"

"Well, we both have nobody. Just each other. And that's not really saying much. Here, do you have a pen?" She set it on the table, and I took it and grabbed a napkin off the stand. I clicked the pen, and leaned over, writing carefully so that the flimsy paper wouldn't tear.

"If you ever need help, ask around for someone who knows Snatcher, or come to this address." I told her, writing down our apartment complex's address. "If you do the latter, ask for Cecelia. That's how you'll find us again." I hoped that this might help the girl. I knew that I had wished that I'd had someone besides this man I hardly knew when I was first disowned.

"You're really… Helping me? After I've been such a jerk to you?" She asked me, surprised. I nodded. "I'm not going to leave an under-aged single mother to fend for her and her child alone. I assume you're a single mother, with your emotional levels?" She stared at the floor and muttered an affirmative. I took her hand. "Nothing to be ashamed of. Now what's your name? I want to know who I'm helping."

The young girl lifted her head, looking at me, for the first time, in the eye. I could tell now that she had sharp green eyes that complimented her dark blonde hair very well. She had fair skin, and a decent complexion that probably would look better if she hadn't been forced to cake on makeup for her job. She was pretty, but her eyes had dark rims around them, probably from staying up with her child all night after she got home. "My name… is Minka. Minka Pietrowski."

I smiled. "Well, Minka, I'm here for you, alright? Just find us, and we'll help you as much as we can." Graverobber scoffed. "What do you mean, 'we'?" I rolled my eyes, kicking him under the table. "Stop being such a douchebag and have a heart, Graves." He pouted slightly and I giggled as he conceded. "Thanks Graves!" I laughed.

Minka, for the first time that I'd seen, smiled at us, almost mischievously. "You two fight like an old married couple, you know that?" I gasped, eyes widening. "_What_?" Graverobber burst out laughing, though I'm not sure if it was because of my expression or because of what Minka said. Either way, though, I found it mortifying.

"Minka, we've hardly known each other for three months. There's no way we're _that_ bad." I laughed weakly. "We aren't that bad, are we?" I asked, probably looking terrified. Minka just laughed. "No, no. I was just joking. God, you look like you've just had a heart attack." She put a hand on my shoulder, grinning down at me.

Graverobber's smirk faded, and he stared at the food that sat before me. "You gonna eat that, Kid?" He asked me, hunger clearly taking over him. I shook my head. "Have at it."

After a few minutes, Minka's boss came over to the table, and told her to get back to work. "Mink, you had better get your ass over to table numbers 5 and 9, and do your fucking job!" I sighed. "Sir, please don't be angry with her. We were just inquiring about what the best things to try are, for the next time we're here." The man just sneered at us and walked away.

Minka smiled slightly, squeezing my shoulder. "Thanks for trying to defend me, um…" She paused. "Would you rather I called you Snatcher or Cecelia?" I smiled. "In public, just call me Cecelia or any variation of that you want." Minka nodded at me. "Okay. Thanks for trying to defend me against my boss. And thanks for the offer to help me. Nobody has ever been so kind to me before. Thank you, Cecil."

"Well, that's a new one for me! Cecil!" I laughed jovially. "You should probably get back to work before you get in trouble with your boss again, though. He's starting to give us the stink-eye again." I pulled Minka into a hug, and she walked away, sticking her tongue out playfully as she walked away. "I'll see you sometime, Cecil!"

I chuckled again at my newly earned nickname, and I slid out of the booth, setting a 20 dollar bill on the table, along with the note I'd written for my new friend. "Hey Minka," I called as I ran over to her before she could begin to serve the next set of customers. I slowed down, and stopped next to her, whispering in her ear.

"I left a 20 dollar bill on the table. That should cover the tab we owe you, and leave you with a mighty fine tip. Don't let that jackass of a boss of yours take that away from you, you hear me?" She giggled, nodding. "Yeah, I got it, Cecil. Now can I get back to work?" I laughed, nodding. "Yeah, yeah. Get back to that."

With that, I walked back over to Graverobber and we left the building. "Hey Graves, what do we do now?" He looked at me, confused. "What do you mean, Snatcher?" I shrugged. "I dunno…" I mumbled, hugging myself, trying to keep the last of my body warmth from leaving me to freeze. "I just feel like we should do something_, anything_… But I feel like we shouldn't just be wandering the streets like we are now." A particularly strong shiver wracked my body, and Graverobber looked at me, almost worriedly. "You okay, Kid? I don't need you getting a cold or anything while you work with me, got it?"

I smiled weakly. "Yeah, I'm just having another temperature flux, that's all." Even with my (or rather, Graverobber's,) trench coat, which would've been plenty of warmth for anyone else, I was nearly frozen to the bone. Graverobber had given me the old trench coat about a week after I'd moved into the apartment with him, when we realized that I hardly had anything that would keep me warm during our work on the long, cold nights that were commonplace on Sanitarium Isle.

Graverobber just chuckled at my odd temperature sensitivities and unlocked the door to our apartment, ushering me inside, where it was already warm. "Go on inside. I've got one last thing to do before I join you inside." I nodded, grateful to be able to pounce on the couch and curl up like a queen kit from that ancient, yet beautiful, musical, Cats, under a nice warm blanket.

Graverobber rolled his eyes as I did just that, and curled up and entangled myself under the blanket, glad to have warmth entering my body again. "G'night Kid." He called as he closed the door behind him as he left again, a click signaling that he locked the door behind him. "G'night Graves…" I mumbled, a light purr escaping my lips as I snuggled deeper under the blanket, content to stay here, quite possibly for the rest of eternity, if I had the chance.

~*Graverobber's Point of View*~

I chuckled as I closed the door. Snatcher had jumped onto the couch, and immediately curled up just like a kitten would. "G'night, Kid." I called as I locked the door. I could've sworn I heard a faint purring sound and a farewell. "She's a strange one, that's for sure…" I muttered, walking away from the apartment.

I wandered the streets until I reached my preferred graveyard. It was near the outskirts of Sanitarium Isle, and was fairly convenient because the Gene-Cops rarely came to this portion of the city. I began to sing softly as I pulled out my gun. "It's quick," I smiled knowingly, pushing against the wall of a crypt. The wall shifted over easily, and I slid inside.

"It's clean," I opened the first of the two larger graves, and began my work. "It's pure..." I smirked as the shining blue liquid filled the vial. "It could change your life, rest assured." I walked over to the next grave and pushed it open. I drained the body of its precious zydrate and moved on to the final grave.

It was exceptionally smaller than the other two, only big enough to fit a young child, probably no bigger than 3 or 4 and a half feet tall. I sighed, shaking my head. I hated stealing from children, especially ones so young, but I continued my work, gently pushing the light, tiny top off of the grave. It belonged to a little boy. I could still tell that much from his short hair and the small suit that the corpse wore from the funeral procession.

These graves weren't that old. They were half a month old, at most, based on the minimal decomposition level on the bodies. Had they been much older, it would be much more difficult to recognize any gender distinguishing features that the corpses had left. I carefully drained the tiny body, softly singing. "And it's my job to steal and rob…" I chuckled darkly, sealing each grave and leaving the crypt. I breathed deeply and shouted my signature line, "GRAAAAAVES!" as I slid the crypt door shut, and ran as sirens went off in every direction.

"Graverobber on site! Repeat, _Graverobber on site_! Secure and execute, _secure and execute_!" The mechanized voice said, calling out to GeneCops and Repo Men alike. I smirked. I was already half way home, hiding in an alley, when the final row of GeneCops sped past my hiding spot, unprepared to get there just to find the Graveyard empty, not a single living being in sight besides themselves.

When I finally made it back to the apartment, I unlocked the door and walked inside quickly. I went into the back room and opened the closet, shifting the blankets around until I found my safe. I entered the code, "974732", and began to unpack the zydrate I'd gathered into the safe.

I pushed the safe door shut and locked it again, replacing all of the blankets that I had shifted back into their strategically placed spots. I sighed, pulling my coat and shirt off, before grabbing a clean sleeping shirt and pants. I pulled the clean shirt on, adjusting it so that it fit correctly, and changed out of my work pants and into some worn out fleece pajama pants. I laid down on my bed and pulled the sheet up over myself, finally able to get some nice, peaceful sleep.

In the middle of my restful slumber, though, I felt my sheets shift around me, and a small, lithe body joining me, curled up like a kitten up against my chest, searching blindly for warmth. I looked at the person wearily. It could only be one person. "Snatcher?" I mumbled, and she nuzzled closer to me. "Shaddup…" She muttered. "I'm only here because the other room got really cold all of a sudden, okay?" I rolled my eyes. "Sure, Kid… What the fuck ever…"

I was too tired to argue with her or kick Snatcher out of my room, so I just let her sleep here, next to me, in my bed. As long as there was no funny business, she could in here for this one night , I guess. I shrugged lazily, letting my eyes drift shut again, back into a deep, fulfilling, peaceful sleep. The last thing I felt was the warmth radiating off of Snatcher as she nuzzled against me, soft purrs erupting from her throat.

~*Cecelia's Point of View*~

The next morning, I woke up to find myself curled up, just like a queen kit, against Graverobber's chest, and his arm wrapped around me. "Shit…" I muttered, trying to contort out of his arms without waking him. Unfortunately, he just groaned and tightened his grip on me, unconsciously refusing to let me go.

"Dammit, Graves…" I hissed. "How the hell'd I even get in here…?" I must've wandered in after I woke up to get that glass of warm milk… The stuff helps me sleep, but I can hardly remember what I do in the few minutes before I actually sleep again. I swear that stuff's like rohypnol or zydrate sometimes. Anything, and I mean _anything_, could happen to me, and I probably wouldn't remember a thing the next morning.

I nudged Graverobber awake, and sighed. It was going to be really hard to explain why I had come into his room last night, and I was so catlike, to him. "Whaddya want, Snatcher?" He grumbled, and I rolled my eyes. "Get your lazy ass up, Graves." I fully intended to pull his ass out of bed, too. That is, until I looked at the clock and saw the time. The gleaming red letters flared the time 4:18AM.

I smacked myself on the forehead and laid back down. "Nevermind, Graves. It's too fucking early to be awake. Good morning and good night." I muttered, curling back up, and rolling over, blushing at my stupidity. Now all I could hope for was that he'd completely forget that this incident just happened. Not likely, but a girl can dream, right?


End file.
